


The Pig in Dirt

by aphohm



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood and Violence, Historical, I'll add iceland and finland when/ if i ever put them in, M/M, Viking trio yall, Vikings, Violence, advice on tagging pls? im dying, again i have no idea how to tag anything in my whole life, anko family hints so far, idk if i should add it to the relationship tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 11:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphohm/pseuds/aphohm
Summary: The wind goesforwards, forwards.Whispers in the trees.Tears at me.I rise up from myself.The path is clearing,the silence is speaking.





	The Pig in Dirt

It was often said that you shouldn’t mess with a small ragtag group of men called The Wolves of the North. Three blonde men all with different striking blue eyes. The leader of them was said to be the most ferocious, often times biting into the flesh of his foes. One group of men paid these rumors no mind and fought this trio out in order to battle. 

This merry band of 20 men strong had found what appeared to be a campsite belonging to the wolves and ransacked it, burning the supplies, laughing as they watched the items turn to ask. One man from the group heard a twig snap and turned to find the legends standing behind them. The whole group silenced themselves, turning, weapons drawn ready to fight. Soft and calm was really the only way anyone could describe the scene before the battle erupted. Angry, ravenous screams filled the air as both sides charged and metal met metal in loud clangs and screeches. The battle, a skirmish really, didn’t last very long. Eventually, the air was saturated with the stench of blood and rot as men lay dying on the snow covered ground.

The leader of the dead men lay propped up against a tree, three figures surrounding him. The first to speak was a strong Dane wielding a fearsome ax, hair impossibly spiky with eyes of blue lightning. Although the temperature had to be well below freezing his tunic did little to cover his muscular arms, bands of Norse runes wrapping themselves around his upper limbs. This man let out a haughty laugh and smirked as a wolf looking upon his dinner before finally addressing the dying man leaning on the tree.

“So, ya wanted to tussle with us and now look,” the Dane paused and looked around, spreading his arms out to mock the man below him, “all yer men are dead!” He let out a callus laugh at the misfortune surrounding the four living men. He dropped the cheerful act when someone tapped him, turning his attention of the one who drew his attention in the first place he raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the other, normally no one interrupted his tangents.

“Dan,” the other started, “I heard Island speak.” The voice was monotone to anyone who didn’t really know the man behind the voice. The man who had spoken was elegant, even wearing a heavy cloak and with his hair soft and featherlike with a simple clip holding some of it from his face. His eyes sparkled and his face was soft. The Dane’s eyes lit up as well, ignoring his enemy he picked the shorter up and spun him around cheering and laughing.

“Norge I can’t believe it! I’m gonna be a father! Far og søn, Danmark og Island!” He shouted over and over again, almost forgetting the dead man on the tree until of course, the man spoke.

“A son eh? I can’t wait to get my hands on this “Island” you speak of. To violate ‘im and kill ‘im like a bitch!” he snarled. Suddenly the Dane froze joy switching so fast to rage it was almost as if another man stood before them all. The quiet one of the group, tallest and squinting almost constantly almost choked on his breath in disbelief as to what was said and watching his friend change demeanor so quickly. He backed away from the three and swallowed harshly. The one called Norge stood there in shock at the words that left the man’s mouth and watching his lover become a beast again in less than a second. A growl resounded through the air and the dying man was snatched into the air, feet dangling off the ground as he clawed at the hand holding his tunic.

“Never. Speak. That. Name. Again.” The beast of a man spat out, words sounding like the growl of a wolf. “You are a worthless pig rolling around in your own shit and mud. You’re unworthy of that name ever leaving your lips. I will make you repent for your sin. You will never reach Valhalla you will rot on this earth till the day the gods take pity and simply dispose of your soul from existence.” The taller shook the man he was holding to emphasize his point before drawing the other man closer so their noses touched. A pained yowl shattered the momentary silence in the air as the Dane but down into the man’s lip and ripped it off, spitting it out onto the snow, staining it deeper with blood.

“I am your worst nightmare and you will wish you were never born.” The beast paused before turning to his two companions and requesting they leave him to his business. The taller of the two simply grunted and went off deeper into the woods in search of wood for a fire. The shorter of the two stood there stubbornly, eyebrows creased and worry clear in his eyes.

“Dan there's no reason to go this far. He doesn’t even know what my brother looks like, nor where he lives or anything at all. Please, be rational the last time you gave into this you didn’t come back for a year I can’t go through that again please Danmark…” The Norwegian started to cry, soft sobs shaking his body. The Dane’s eyes clear of their bloodlust seeing his partner cry. He dropped the man who now only trembled silently in shock and horror before moving to hold and comfort the shorter of the two.

“Norge, Norge there’s no need worry I promise. I wish only to make an example of this man before returning to you. I don’t want you to see this though, ja? I’ll be back before dawn on the morrow.” Denmark kissed the other’s forehead softly before only moving to hold is lover's hands in his own.

“Jeg elsker dig Norge.” The Dane softly smiled, squeezing the hands he held softly in his own. Norway sighed softly, worry still creasing his brow, whispering his own “I love you” to the other before departing into the woods, most likely in search of a place to rest, although he himself was unsure. The Dane turned back to the man whom had threatened his son and drew up a wicked grin. He knew he was going to make this man suffer for his words, in ways he would spread in tales during feasts till the end of his day. No one hurts his son, his lover’s brother, his Iceland. Wails and moans and screams echoed through the woods that night, even as the stench of rot surrounded him along with the thick scent of blood curling into his nostrils and settling in his lungs he continued, letting his beast do the work, his body numb to all but the thrill of making a legend of himself. Once he had finished he gathered the rest of the bodies and burnt them, leaving only his victim to rot in the snow.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I'm gonna add another chapter... thoughts? I might if enough people enjoy this part. I'm not exactly an expert on viking age things, nor do I know any old norse (ie why its danish when Denmark is speaking and not old norse lmao). I'll certainly take feedback and stuff! This was written a really long time ago so my writing style has changed a bit since then. 
> 
> comments and kudos are really appreciated! tell me a little of what u'd like to see! you can also find me @fulminisignem on tumblr :)
> 
> -
> 
> Here's some translations for those who need them!
> 
> Danmark (danish) - Denmark  
> Norge (danish) - Norway  
> Island (danish) - Iceland  
> Far (danish) - father  
> Søn (danish) - son  
> Jeg elsker dig (danish) - I love you  
> Og (danish) - and


End file.
